Hardest Times
by Kayami Naru
Summary: The adrenaline had worn off. They were out of danger. The ship was being repaired. He was alive and fully healed. For the first time since he had woken up, Kirk faces his feelings about being captain. And when he spirals downward, Spock is there to catch and support him, no matter where he goes. (Implied Into Darkness spoilers. Can be read as romantic Spirk or not).
1. Chapter 1

The adrenaline had worn off. They were out of danger. The _Enterprise _was undergoing repairs; she would live to fly amongst the stars another day. He was _alive, _against all odds, with super human blood that wasn't even his own coursing through his veins. He should be thankful. Yet, a part of him wished that he was dead. He knew that it was selfish. He knew that people would _mourn _and _weep _for his loss. They would be without a captain. They would be without a friend.

What kind of captain was he, though? He was a captain that didn't respect the chair. He was a captain that let those under his command die because he wouldn't accept the idea of a no-win scenario. For the first time under his command, people had _died. _Lives snuffed out like candles because he was fundamentally unable to follow simple orders, because he felt like the rules didn't apply to him. The memory of his lost mentor's words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Requesting another shot, he chased the taste away with the sting of whiskey. Slamming the small glass down next to the six others, Kirk let himself, for the first time since waking up, wallow in guilt and sorrow. He knew that it was unbecoming. He knew that it was disgraceful for a captain to sit inside a dive and drink himself into oblivion. He knew that he needed to be strong for his crew.

He couldn't do that right now though.

His crew had each other to lean on while they mourned and cried for the deaths of _one hundred and four _people on the _Enterprise. _They did not need the captain that let it happen. They didn't need a captain that got a second chance at life when none of his lost crew did. That was really what killed Kick on the inside. The fact that under his command, his orders, men and women had died; yet, had any of them been given the same second chance that he did? No. None of them had.

And to think, six months from now, the ship would be done. Once that was done, they were sending him on a five year mission into uncharted space. Trusting him with responsibilities that he didn't deserve; trusting him with a crew he didn't deserve. It made him nauseous.

Three drinks burned his throat before he allowed himself to thinking again. This time, he allowed himself to contemplate his own death. He hadn't been afraid to die. He hadn't hesitated in the face of certain death. He hadn't even blinked at the radiation that coursed through his body as he crawled and clawed his way back to the radiation protection door to complete the decontamination process. He understood now why Spock had been so prepared to die for their mission. While yes, the volcano situation didn't need to become a life or death situation, it was the same principle. Feeling like there was no other choice. Knowing that there was only one thing to be done, one thing that _could _be done. Kirk felt guilty now for snapping at his First Officer.

With that wave of guilt, another shot was taken and a few drops coughed up. At this point, the disheveled Captain didn't know if he could stand up. He didn't know if he wanted to stand up. Standing meant walking out of here. Walking out of here meant returning to a reality he didn't know if he could handle. Living his reality meant being the captain of a ship that he didn't feel like he deserved. No, standing up was not worth it.

Ordering a glass of water this time, Kirk turned in his seat and leaned his elbows against the slick wood bar to stare out at the half filled dive. Many faces greeted him, all strangers. Some were beautiful women, women he would have gone after any other time. Not tonight though. He didn't want the comfort of a woman's touch tonight, because he didn't feel like he deserved to be comforted. Comfort was for those that earned it and he hadn't. The other thing he received that he knew he didn't deserve was _gratitude. _

Families of survivors from the crew had approached him for days at his bedside, thanking him profusely through tears for saving their son, daughter, brother, sister, father, mother, best friend, lover. Jim had smiled politely, humbly said that he was proud to have them, while inside he died a little bit. He had let people die under his command; he didn't deserve gratitude from those who had survived. They only served to remind him of the faces he'd lost. Suddenly, he regretted not getting to know every single person on his ship. The rational side of his brain reminded him that it would have been impossible to know every one of their names. The other side of his brain venomously argued that he should have God damn tried. Now it was too late.

The grimace on Jim's faces deepened at the thought and he ordered another shot before taking a sip of his water. When the bartender grunted at him, telling him that his drink was there, Kirk turned to grab it without realizing where he had set his glass of water. Reflexes impaired by the alcohol, he was too late to grab the glass before the water spilt down the bar, soaking everything in its path. Including the large, gruff looking man sitting next to him. Offering a mumbled apology, Kirk turn away fully intending to take his last shot and leave the bar. The gentleman next to him had another plan.

"Hey buddy, this jacket is one hundred pure Vulcan silk. You can't even buy these anymore after the bloody planet disappeared. You gotta way you're gonna pay for this?"

The mention of Vulcan touched a sore spot in Jim's heart. The planet he had been too late to save. After the entire Nero incident, Chekov had explained to him that had the drill been stopped a minute or two sooner, the planet would've had longer to evacuate. More lives could have been saved and spared, including Spock's mother. He had felt so guilty and horror struck that he drank two entire bottles of Romulan whiskey before Bones found him curled up in the captain's chair, silently weeping.

An impatient snarl brought the man out of his musings. Kirk turned toward the fuming, waiting man and leveled an irritated glare.

"If it's so rare, don't wear it to some shithole dive where it's likely to get ruined."

The man rose from his seat in a flurry, knocking his chair over in the process. The loud clatter caused the entire room to turn to look at the commotion at the bar.

"Listen, asshole, you spilt your fucking water, you're going to pay for this. Got it?" the man all but growled at the unflappable captain. Kirk offered little more than an apathetic shrug before he smirked bitterly.

"I ain't paying for shit except for these drinks, buddy. So you can sit your ass back down and drink away your materialist sorrow and leave me the hell alone. Sound good? Good." Vaguely, Kirk knew that Spock and Bones would be proud of his use of such a big word. He didn't have time to fully smile at the thought though before a punch connected soundly with his cheek. Sent reeling out of his seat and into the floor, Kirk was dazed for a moment. Regaining his sense of direction and thought, he scowled as he spit out a glob of blood and sat up. The asshole was standing over him with a self satisfied smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Alright, if you wanna dance, we'll dance."


	2. Chapter 2

The lights were dim and the room temperature set to sweltering. Candles burned that smelt of cactus flowers and incense reminded him of sand in the wind. It felt like home if the half human closed his eyes. He knew that when he opened his eyes, the illusion would be lost. So, Spock kept his eyes closed and let the feeling of home wash over him.

It was the two year anniversary of the loss of Vulcan, and the loss of his mother. The pain in his heart was still deep, despite knowing that his heart was not actually damaged and it was just a release of chemicals in his brain. In a rare moment of remembrance, he pushed the logic away and just let himself feel the pain and affection and loneliness that this loss had imparted on him.

He remained in this state of mourning for nearly an hour before a light beeping caught his attention. It took him a moment to surface from the meditation he had settled into, but when he did, he realized that the insistent beeping was louder than he first thought. Knowing that this settling was uniquely for calls from the Captain, Spock rose quickly from his cross legged position and covered the ground to his desk in three large strides. For whatever reason, getting a call from the Captain this late at night the first night of his medical release caused a tightening in his gut. He ignored the feeling, knowing that it was illogical to worry until something was proven to be wrong. Grabbing the device, he flipped it open.

"Captain?"

"Commander…" Spock was surprised by the unfamiliar voice. His Vulcan hearing heard the voice ask someone in the background "what this guy's name was, again?" Spock didn't hear a response before the unidentified man was once again speaking.

"Commander Spock, I'm James Warner, a bartender here in San Francisco. A Captain… Kirk! Is at my bar and needs someone to come and get him. He got in a good scrap with another drinker and took a few good shiners. Broken nose, I'd guess, along with a fractured wrist and broken rib. Nothin' life threatening, but he's way too drunk to walk anywhere. He said to call you."

Spock was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised by the news, a feeling that he found very confusing. After a moment to collect his thoughts and analyze the best course of action, he spoke.

"Thank you, Mr. Warner. Please inform Captain Kirk that I will arrive presently to bring him home."

Spock cut off communication before the other man could respond. Methodically, if not a little mechanically, the half Vulcan blew out the refreshing candles and threw out the half used incense. Grabbing his communicator and identification card so that he could re-enter his room, the man left his quarters.

Based on the coordinates that his Captain's communicator, the bar he was located at was only a few blocks from the hotel that Spock was staying in. Deciding to walk, the man enjoyed the cool night air that Earth evenings had to offer.

As he walked, he thought about the very man that he was going to retrieve.

For days after the death of Kirk, he had struggled with the possibility of Uhura being too late. How would he have felt if he had killed Kahn before the Lieutenant had arrived? Could he live with himself if he knew that he could have saved his friend if his rage hadn't gotten in the way? That in and of itself was a ridiculous thought. Of course he could live with himself; suicide was highly illogical and would solve nothing. He had no choice but to live with himself. The question really was, could he do it happily? And the answer to that, he had decided, was no. He couldn't live a happy, or even content, life knowing that he had taken Kirk's last chance for life away due to his own blind rage.

It had taken eight days, three hours, and sixteen minutes for Spock to finally sift through all his thoughts and emotions on the subject. The exact amount of time it took for the Captain to finally wake up from his coma after being injected with Kahn's blood. The minute Spock had set eyes on the Captain, alive and well, his turbulent thoughts had relaxed. The Vulcan realized that none of his thoughts of "what ifs" mattered. It as a waste of time to consider them. His Captain was alive and now awake, and none of his insecurities mattered as long as that was true. He hadn't let his rage consume him and he hadn't lost his Captain. It was the minute after the blonde had awoken that Spock realized that there was another feeling that needed to be analyzed. The almost tangible attachment that Spock had developed for the Iowa born man. Like a magnet, Kirk attracted all those around him. Including the seemingly emotionless Spock.

First, he had been annoyed, yet strangely intrigued by the third year cadet that had hacked his test. That annoyance and intrigue had given away to hatred and disgust at Jim's complete lack of respect of acknowledgement of rules and regulations. Upon the successful mission involving the Narada, those feelings had given birth to fascination and determination to undo the puzzle that was James Tiberius Kirk. Eventually though, through the entire Kahn ordeal, Spock had realized that Kirk was a puzzle not to be solved. He was endlessly unpredictable and entirely puzzling in a way that nothing else ever had been. Like the uncharted universe that they would be exploring in six months, Kirk was uncharted territory that Spock had never bothered getting close to. Until now. He found that he wanted to be around the captain at all times, if only to get a mere glance into the strange subconscious that his captain possessed.

In waiting for the captain to open his eyes, he realized that no matter where this man went, Spock would follow. As his First Officer, he would protect his one and only captain until the end of his days, just as he had promised to upon taking the position.

Pulled from his thoughts when he realized he was standing outside the bar he was looking for, the Vulcan reigned in all his emotions and made his face carefully neutral before entering the putrid smelling establishment. By now, the entire place was near empty, save for an elderly gentleman in the corner "nursing", as Dr. McCoy would say (although that was ridiculous because the man was neither working with medical equipment nor feeding an infant), a tall drink of pale looking ale, the Captain, and the bartender that Spock assumed was the one that had contacted him. Walking purposely toward the pair, the half human took the time to assess Kirk for himself. A small pile of blood stained tissues sat beside his hand on the bar; a pair of tissues was currently hanging out of his nose. An ice pack rested on his right hand, the one the commander assumed was the broken one. When he got closer, Kirk raised his eyes to look at his First Officer.

At least he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Hello, Mr. Spock."

"Good evening, Captain. I was informed that you required assistance back to your dwellings."

Kirk couldn't help but smile affectionately at his First Officer, who was standing stiff with his hands clenched behind his back. Kirk wished that he would just relax for a moment, but he knew it was a losing battle to even ask.

"Yeah, about that, I don't have dwellings," a nervous laugh as he pulled the tissues from his nose and sniffed uncomfortably, "The minute Bones released me, I ended up here. Didn't even think about having a place to go tonight."

Spock couldn't say that he was surprised (mostly because Vulcans could not lie). During his time with the Captain, there had been multiple occasions where the he had found or heard of Kirk drinking without thinking of the consequences. He had considered several times approaching Dr. McCoy about it, seeing as he was worried about his Captain and it was his main purgative on the ship of ensure the safety and well being of the Captain. Each time, though, he hesitated to show too much interest in the Captain's personal life. Now, he wished he had talked to the doctor before this.

Right now, he needed to concentrate on helping the Captain.

"You will reside with me tonight, then, as I have a hotel room down the street." It was the only logical solution to the current problem and it gave Spock the chance to make sure that the Captain wasn't sick in the night and did not hurt himself. Yes, a most logical decision on his part.

"Spock, I couldn't intrude like that, I'll just go back to sick bay at head quarters and sleep it off there. Bones won't mind." Kirk added a relaxed grin for effect. Even though both he and Spock knew that if Jim returned to sick bay, he wouldn't sleep at all without sedatives of some kind. McCoy and Spock had talked about it once while the Captain had lay away for hours, resisting a hypospray until early in the hours of the morning. The doctor had alluded to a childhood trauma which led to Kirk's mistrust of sick bays. Spock hadn't pushed the issue at the time.

"Nonsense Captain. Sick bay is half way across the city and it is impractical for you to go all the way there when my hotel room is no more than a few blocks away. Now come, you require rest."

Spock held out his arm expectantly and watched as a battle waged in Kirk's eyes. On one hand, the captain could just happily accept the invitation to stay the night with his very handsome First Officer. On the other hand, he could go to the sick bay where he would stay awake with his thoughts for six hours until Bones could put him to sleep. The decision was easy.

Throwing a crumpled stack of money on the table to pay for his drinks, Kirk offered an easy half smile to the bartender, who just harrumphed at him in returned. Standing on wobbly legs, Kirk grabbed Spock's hand for support before releasing it as if he had been burned. He had learned about Vulcan's being sensitive to touch while at the Academy and the last thing he wanted to do was make Spock uncomfortable with his heavy thoughts when the man was already offering up his hotel room. So, he just smiled sheepishly and motioned awkwardly toward the door.

"Shall we?"

"Indeed."

Spock was confused by the sudden jerky movement Kirk had made in an attempt to get away from him. Didn't the human know that his telepathy didn't work nearly as well through clothing? However, Spock had gotten a glimpse into the man's mind before he had ripped his hand away. Anguish. That was the only word Spock could attach the glimpse he had gotten. No wonder the Captain had been attempting to numb his mind. Putting that thought away for late analyzing, Spock followed after his unsteady Captain.


	3. Chapter 3

While Star Fleet Head Quarter's sick bay was half way across town, there was a small clinic on the way to the hotel that they stopped at. They quickly healed the broken nose and rib, and partially healed the hand before wrapping it in a tight white bandage and telling him to be carefully with it for the next few days. The entire visit was less than an hour and for that, Kirk was grateful. He hated sick bays.

The walk back to the hotel had been awkward at best. There was no talking, but occasionally Spock had to grab the back of Jim's coat to keep the man was falling into the concrete. Each time, the Vulcan was rewarded with an uncertain smile and a nervous laugh.

Upon arriving at the hotel room, Spock let the both of them in and increased the lighting of the room to accommodate the human's weaker eyes. He then watched as Kirk looked around the room, taking in the fact that there was only one bed with a slight widening of the eyes and a nervous swallow.

"Nice room," Kirk said, desperate to break the silence that reined over the room. Spock only offered a nod before proceeding to carefully remove his footwear and place it neatly by the door. Kirk followed his example, as well as removed his coat to drape over and empty chair. He proceeded to fall into the chair heavily, slouching in it the same way he slouched in the Captain's chair. The image pulled at the corners of Spock's mouth.

"Can I get you a refreshment, Captain? Perhaps a water to help with your future hangover?"

Kirk smiled at his professional tone and shook his head.

"No, Spock, it's alright. I'm alright." Kirk ran a hand over his face as he spoke and before he knew it, his head was buried in his hands and he was _shaking_. Violently convulsing with sorrow and remorse and so much God damned guilt that he couldn't handle it.

When had he started to cry?

Spock watched at this with a small amount of horror filling his eyes and pulling his lips into a frown. Never before had he seen the Captain like this. Even on the _Enterprise _when he had gotten drunk he had never broken down like this. He always had the front of a perfectly controlled, even lighthearted, Captain. He exuded confidence, charm, and a charisma that was almost as contagious as Chekov's. Where had he been hiding this tidal wave of emotion that the Vulcan could sense across the room?

Striding toward the sobbing man, the Vulcan slowly lifted him to his feet, fully intending to lay the man in his bed and wait until he fell asleep to resume meditation. That isn't what happened. The minute that he was in contact with Spock's body, the Captain latched onto the steady, solid man. As if Spock was the anchor in the sea of his emotion. When clutching the man, Kirk brushed his hand against Spock's and the Vulcan was given a full view of the anguish he had glimpsed at earlier. For a moment, he wondered if emotions truly ran deeper in Vulcan's than in humans.

A deep pool of grief and regret swirled in the Captain's mind. Alongside those emotions there was sadness, loneliness, pain, and the emotion that impacted Spock the most; hatred. A deep, all consuming sense of self hatred had consumed a section of Kirk's mind. Images were attached to these emotions. Lists of those who had died due to either Admiral Marcus or Kahn. A picture of Spock's mother on a holoscreen, smiling happily. In the reflection of a window, Spock could see Kirk crying silently as he took deep swigs of an unknown alcohol as he gazed at Spock's mother. Spock's face through the glass door. And the most impacting of all, the deep sense of dread and realization when Jim opened his eyes for the first time and realized that he was still alive.

And all at once, the emotions were over as Kirk's hand moved and was no longer in contact with Spock's skin. He was brought roughly back to the present moment and he was gasping for breath from the strength of emotion he had experienced. He realized after a moment that the Captain was talking.

"I'm sorry. Their lives, ended. I lived. I shouldn't have. I should be dead and they could have gotten Kahn's blood to live. Should have destroyed drill sooner. She wouldn't have fallen. All my fault. So many dead. All gone." His words made no sense, but the emotion behind them helped Spock understand. Somewhere in his side, a tightening feeling became entirely uncomfortable. Spock realized that this was the feeling that human's called "heart break" (which is completely ridiculous, a heart cannot be broken. It can only be crushed, since it is a muscle). Kirk's words were making his heart hurt.

Kirk knew that he shouldn't be clutching to his First Officer the way he was. He knew that he should not be sobbing into the dark grey shirt that Spock was wearing. He knew that he needed to strong in front of his crew. But the moment he saw the Vulcan, so soon after facing the feelings of Vulcan's destruction, he couldn't hold it in anymore. He needed this support and who better to give it than the very man who had sat with him when he had died? So tonight, he decided, he wouldn't hold back and he wouldn't hold it in. He would let it out and hope to God that Spock didn't hate him for it in the morning.

Carefully, Spock led the now hiccupping man to the bed. Seating him on the edge, Spock removed his second, lighter jacket and pants, leaving the Captain in boxers with lobsters on them and a standard Star Fleet crew neck black t-shirt. Kirk had stopped crying now. His eyes were rimmed red and he was sniffling, but Spock was just thankful that he had stopped crying. Crying made Vulcan's extremely uncomfortable because they did not cry. Being half human, Spock had the ability to cry, but being raised primarily Vulcan, he did not usually cry. He found the Captain's tears unsettling at best.

Banishing those thoughts, he laid the Captain down and covered him in the neatly made blankets before standing. A hand caught his wrist as he turned away. Quickly, Kirk dropped it and frowned.

"Will you… lay with me for a bit?" A bright blush washed over the blonde's cheeks. He was embarrassed by the requested, but he was more afraid of the thoughts that came with loneliness in the dark. Spock, seeing the dark desperation in Kirk's eyes, nodded after a moment and slowly circled the bed. Lying down stiffly beside the Captain and above the blankets, he folded his hands neatly on the top of his chest and stared at the dark cream ceiling.

It was silent in the room for a few moments before his Vulcan hearing caught a low murmuring from the Captain.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't save her. If I had stopped the drill sooner, there would have been more time. She wouldn't be gone. We wouldn't be mourning as much. It's today, isn't it? I knew it was." There as a pause. "Some douche bag at the bar had a Vulcan silk top on that I soaked in water. Bastard was mad that he couldn't replace it since Vulcan is… gone." He choked on the word and Spock feared that more tears were to come. Kirk contained himself quickly though and shook his head. "I gave the guy a good beating before you got there. Shoulda seen 'im, Spock."

Spock offered no reply and merely analyzed the strange warmth that spread through him at the idea of Kirk defending Vulcan's passing. Kirk took the silence as anger and turned on his side to reveal pleading sky blue eyes.

"You have every right to hate me, Spock. It's my fault. Her death. All of their deaths. I'm not a fit captain." A strangled sounding hiccup escaped his mouth before he choked out, "I don't deserve to be alive."

Spock's heart beat very hard at those words. Images of his life without Kirk flashed before his eyes and he found his fists clenching painfully and panic washing over him. Before he had a chance to control his emotions and devise a response, the Vulcan turned on his side and drew the Captain close to his body, as if to shield him from his own thoughts. Spock could feel tears on his shirt and knew that Kirk was crying again. His discomfort had given way to an intense desire to stop the tears and relieve this pain that his Captain was feeling.

"You are wrong, Captain. Her death was the fault of Nero. The deaths of our crew are the fault of the late Admiral Marcus and the super human Kahn. You did everything you could do, include give your life. What more could be asked of a man?"

Spock paused when he realized Kirk's shoulders were no longer shaking and his shirt was starting to dry on a microscopic level.

"You not only deserve to be alive, Jim, but you need to be alive. The crew needs you and only you to be its captain. For without you as a captain, they would not have me as a First Officer."

Kirk drew away from Spock just far enough to look into the Vulcan's eyes. There, in the depths of Spock's dark eyes, Jim saw sincerity and a deep emotion he couldn't put his finger on. Whatever it was, though, it resonated within Kirk. He felt the deep whirlpool of emotion that threatened to pull him under ebb and ease slowly into a peaceful ocean.

"What do you mean?"

"I have sworn to follow you through the stars, no matter where you choose to go. As your first officer, I am required to protect you and offer my best judgment so that you make the best decisions possible."

Kirk couldn't help the crushing disappointment, a disappointment he didn't even understand yet, at the idea that Spock was only following him as a First Officer.

"Though, I must admit, it is more than just as an officer that I follow you," Spock continued, "I also follow you as a friend, Jim."

Those words soothed the pain in Kirk's chest and he took a deep breath as his emotions calmed and his heart rate slowed down. As the emotions fled from his body, they left him feeling heavy and weak. His eye lids were made of led as they drooped and a yawn ripped from his throat. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want this feeling, this moment, to go away so soon.

"You require sleep, Captain."

"No, I don't."

"You do, Captain. A yawn is your brain craving oxygen. The reason you yawn when you are tired is because your heart rate is slowing down and you are taking in less oxygen than your brain was previously used to. Due to the fact that you just experience a yawn, the only logical explanation at this time is that you are in need of rest."

Kirk smiled a small smile at the in depth explanation of why he yawned. It was so _Spock._ And Kirk found that he liked it. His First Officer was right, though. He needed to sleep. All he could do was hope that in the morning, he'd wake up and Spock would still be there with sincere, understanding brown eyes. With that though, and the thought of how warm and content he was in Spock's arms, he let himself be carried away by the much gentler sea of sleep.

Spock could pinpoint the exact moment that the blonde fell into peaceful rest. Previously, he had always felt anxious when the Captain fell asleep. Injecting him with Kahn's blood had been experimental and unpredictable, much like the captain himself. It left Spock with worry every time the captain closed his eyes because no one was ever certain that Kirk would open his eyes again. Now, though, Spock was confident that he would indeed see those calm blue eyes again.

All thoughts of returning to meditation "thrown out the window" (such a strange idea, to think an idea could be physically thrown from a window), Spock continued to hold the captain close to his chest and enjoyed the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft sound of his breath.

The Vulcan needed this, the physical token of his Captain's life and health. He needed the proof that he hadn't been too late to save Kirk.

Kirk's turbulent emotions had left the Vulcan exhausted and soon, Spock felt his eyes droop shut and his heart rate slow down. He was not worried about Kirk being absent when he awoke. He knew that they both need this support, this closeness, to remind each other that the other was there. Even when times were their hardest.


End file.
